Supernatural: Good Ol' Boys
by Raphi-girl
Summary: Someone's watching over the Winchester boys from up above.


Supernatural: Good Ol' Boys

_**Heaven**_  
Mary looked over at John with a pinched face, "You know this is all your fault, right?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John asked with a glare, "The being dead thing? 'Cause in case you hadn't noticed—"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the 'our boys are scheming and killing and running from the cops' thing. The 'our children get shot, stabbed, cursed, and even die sometimes' thing, John."

"Oh…er, well, they're the ones that kept with the life. They could've stopped, you know."

Mary snorted, "Bullshit. Dean's got the idea that all things supernatural need to die. Wonder who taught him that?"

"So?" John demanded, growing frustrated with his wife.

Damn, he'd thought Heaven would peaceful. He didn't know Mary'd be this pissed at him.

"And Sam, little Sammy, my baby Sammy, follows Dean around like a lost puppy." Mary concluded as she stared at John with cruel accusation in her eyes, "Congratulations, John. You managed to damn our kids to a life of constant danger and running. Are you happy now?"

John sighed, "Listen, I'm sorry. I was a little upset after…y'know…I wasn't thinking real clear. And you're to blame too, y'know. I know all about your deal with that yellow eyed bastard."

"…what can I say? I might not have been able to stand you, but I sure as hell loved you a whole damn lot."

The couple turned and looked at the shimmering, waving scene that appeared before them. Their boys, their oh, so precious boys, were back there on the earth fighting for their lives each and every day, while all John and Mary could do was sit and watch. Deep down, John knew that Mary understood everything. He just hoped she wouldn't hold a grudge against him for it all.

_Just'a good ol' boys,__  
__Never meanin' no harm.__  
__Beats all you never saw,__  
__Been in trouble with the law,__  
__Since the day they was born._

  
_**June 1984**_  
"Get back here, you little shit!"

The kid ran down the sidewalk as fast as his little legs could take him. He had to get back to the motel, had to get back to Sammy. He shouldn't have left his baby brother all alone, but he'd had to get something to eat. Daddy was always drinking or hunting monsters and most of the time they had a can of beans at least, but Daddy forgot to go to the store before he left for the hunt.

He may have been a big boy, but Sammy was still a baby. Sammy still needed food.

His five year old heart pumped rapidly as he finally slowed down to catch his breath. He didn't mean to steal, he really didn't . He knew it was wrong, but he didn't have any money of his own. He really was sorry. Maybe he'd get some money out of Daddy's pocket and give that to them.

"De!"

Dean opened the door to see Sammy sitting up in his playpen, tears streaming down his cherub cheeked face. The five year old sighed and walked over to the pen, reaching a hand over to smooth the hair on his baby brothers head.

"D-de?"

Dean sighed again as he grabbed Sammy up out of the accursed playpen, "What's the matter, Sammy? Why're you cryin'?"

"N-no De here…"

"I know, I know, but I had to go to the store. We needed food."

Immediately, little Sammy turned wary, at least as wary as a one year old could be, "…beans?"

"No." Dean snorted at the thought, "No, beans. They're called 'skettios'."

"Eh?"

"You'll love'em, Sammy. I used to eat'em all the time before—"

Dean cut himself off as tears sprung into his eyes. He was so careful about what he said. Daddy got mad if he talked about her and Sammy barely understood anyone half the time. Why can't he stop making mistakes like this? What was wrong with—

"No, De, no! No cry!" Sammy gurgled as he slapped Dean's cheeks.

The five year old boy swallowed and rolled his eyes. He sure hoped Sammy grew up to be big and strong because it was very obvious to Dean that his baby brother wasn't very smart.

"Skios?"

"Yeah, Skettios. C'mon, let's get a bib on you an' get you in a chair." Dean propped Sammy on his hip, "And don't tell Daddy, 'kay Sammy? The Skettios'll be our lil' secret."

'Cause if Daddy found out he stole something, he'd probably tan his hide…

"'Kay, De!"

_Staightnin' the curves,  
Flatnin the hills.  
Someday the mountain might get 'em,  
But the law never will._

_**September 2009**_  
"Shit! Faster, Dean!"

"Shut up, Sam!" the elder hunter snarled at the man next to him, "I'm going as fast as I can!"

"This wouldn't happen if you had any self-control!"

"Shut up, Sam!"

The boys were thrown forward as the sound of grinding metal came from behind them. Sam stared out the back in shock as Dean cursed a blue streak, glaring out the rear-view mirror.

"Son of a bitch, they just rammed my baby!"

Sam glanced ahead and then did a double take, "Uh, Dean?"

"They rammed the Impala, Sam!"

"Dean?"

"Those son's a'bitches hit my car!"

"Dean!"

"Son of a motherfu—"

"Watch the damn curve, Dean!"

"Wha—oh shit!"

Breaks slammed, tires spun, gravel flew, and somehow, someway, the Winchester managed to get stopped. Dean threw the Impala into reverse, backed away from the edge of the cliff, and took off, leaving the cops in the dust.

"Not. A. Word."

"Dean…"

"Sammy. Not. A word."

"…" Sam sighed as he glanced out the window, "This wouldn't have happened if you could keep it in your damn pants."

"Sammy!"

"I mean, seriously, Dean!" Sam looked over in exasperation at his older brother, "The sheriff's daughter?"

"I didn't know she was some cops kid, Sam!"

"She was nineteen!"

"That's legal!"

"Oh, for the love of—"

Sam sat back in the seat with a huff. To hell with demons, ghosts, and the other supernatural shit they dealt with. Dean's driving when it came to evading the police would probably be the thing to really kill them.

_Makin' their way,  
The only way they know how.  
That's just a little bit more,  
Than the law will allow._

_**March 2010**_  
"Hey, Dean?"

The short haired hunter sighed as he lifted his face from the lumpy motel pillow, "Yeah, Sam?"

"Why do we still do this?" Sam asked, staring up at the ugly eggshell ceiling, "Why do you still do this?"

"'Cause, Sammy, I don't know how to do anything else. I didn't go to college, Sam, hell, I barely made it through high school. All I've ever done for the last twenty-seven years is think about monsters and for the last fifteen years I've hunted them. I don't know any other way." Dean sighed and settled his head back down.

"Is the Most Wanted List worth it?"

"Not gonna lie, Sam. It sucks having to be so careful all the damn time."

"Is this really the life you want though?"

Dean looked over at Sam with an exasperated grin, "S'long as I got my car, my gun, and my annoying baby brother with me, my life's as good as I want it."

Sam blinked, "Really?"

"Yup…Wait! Pie! And Magic Fingers! Can't forget pie and Magic Fingers!"

"Really, Dean?"

"Yeah! Pie and Magic Fingers! Not at the same time though…s'some dangerous shit right there…"

"Wow, Dean. Just wow."

_I'm a good ol' boy,__  
__You know my momma loves me.__  
__But she don't understand,__  
__They keep a showin my hands,_

_And not my face on TV._

_**Heaven**_

Mary sighed as she watched her two babies drive off in the Impala yet again. Another day, another hunt, one more monster less in the world.

"If it's any consolation, I do regret how I raised them, treated them, for years."

Mary took John's hand in her own, "You did the best you could, all things considered. At least you got to be with them."

"Yeah, but—"

"How can you be so hung up on him?! He was more of a Drill Seargeant than a frigging father!"

John flinched, "Yeah…that…"

"Y'know…" Mary pondered curiously, teasingly, "They argue about you. A lot. Way more than they do about me. Don't even talk about me actually."

"Really, Mary? Are you really saying—"

"I'm not saying anything. Just that, maybe the bickering about you is the only way they can talk about you. God knows, Sam's only ever known Corporal Winchester all his life."

"Mary…"

"But I can't really be mad. You taught our boys how to survive literally Hell on earth."

John stared warily at his wife, "So does that mean I'm—"

"Boy, don't even ask. Telling Dean he'd have to kill Sammy. John, you do not want to know."

"Okay, then…"

They stared on out at their sons and wondered: would their lives ever settle? They both watched as their boys were shot at, stabbed, beaten, tortured, and killed multiple times over, but still managed to come back even stronger every time.

"Y'know Mary, watching them now hurts a whole lot, but raising them was even worse. Crazy, wild kids. Good Ol' Boys."


End file.
